Piece & Love

On this bright warm morning you are a vision. A vision that my addled mind quickly distorts into warped pornography.  I spring up.  I see your pretty head bobbing up and down in my lap. Your big glistening pouty lips sealed around my cock. You can lick it too. Suck one of my hairy plums.  Lollipop. Take it out in time for me to shoot jizz all over your face. Your strappy little shoes leave the arch and toes exposed. I can warm up by sliding my piece between the shoe and your sole, then you can clamp your toes around it.  My penis is hard on the bus as I slaver over your tits.  A nipple points at me.  No bra?  Wonderful.  Maybe no panties too.  I wish I could see your bush.  I hope it's hairy.  Hairy or smooth.  No half measures.  I'll lick it forever. Come to daddy.  Adore my flab, my magnificent belly. Lick my arsehole.  Poke it with your big toe.  Run the painted nail along my perineum and up my nutsack. Massage my balls with your toes.  I'm a filthy boy. I'm into all kinds of shit. Put on a leather-strapped bondage suit and facesit til I die. Peg me.

Now I have to get off the bus and walk a couple of blocks with a seeping boner.

It seems I like to write when I'm hungover.  I'm too spastic to do anything else.  Still drunk even.  My synapses are pinging too much to concentrate on reading, or anything else.

Journal?

Is this the journal of a fuckhead? It would appear so.

Anyway, the point is that I am trying to change, to move forward, to escape the realm of fuckheadedness, finally.

Once upon a time there was a relatively happy boy who made some bad decisions and then experienced some catastrophic setbacks with consequences which dominated his fortunes for a good (bad) two decades.  This was all mostly his own fault, and you might say that he gave up control of his life, but no-one has the right to judge him.  And he has the right to change.  One day at a time.

Shame

Should I be ashamed?  Should I care if others know that I am a compulsive masturbator with some very dodgy fantasies, a borderline alcoholic who drinks alone frequently and to get drunk, that I binge eat, or that I pick my nose and still call my parents mummy daddy?  Would it be the end of the world if my history of sexual misconduct and ruined relationships was disclosed?